Gildor: Memories of a rogue

[Yith]

Fifty years at least, she had spent on the human streets, mostly in the cities near the Sea of fallen Stars. Over these years, she had learned to fear prison, at times more than death itself. Longest she had spent was nine months, but over the many years, the cells had come and gone, of all varieties and sizes, and she held so many memories:

She recalled how she feared being locked in cells with a crowed, for when the majority was male of any race; they grew lonely as night came.

She recalled how she feared being locked in a cell alone, as many guards often had fewer morals than their prisoners, and they grew lonely as night came.

But she had grown accustomed to the screams, cries, and pleads of the neighbouring cells.

She had grown accustomed to the stench of urines and sick from drunks banged up for the night.

She had grow skilled at appearing small and insignificant, or hard and deadly in cells were men became kings, and death was something which guards described as “unavoidable”.

She recalled breaking a boyâ€s nose as they fought over the boots of a man that had hung himself during the night.

She recalled feeling the bones in her hands breaking, as a heel of a boot crunched it in to the stonework, while stealing her food ration.

She remembered hunger from the guards ‘accidentally†forgetting to feed her for four days.

She remembered all limbs being cold and stiff, from attempting to stay warm as winter blew frozen gusts of wind through the iron bars and filled the small stone cell.

She remembered watching people die from diseases, coughing and affecting other prisoners which in turn grew weaker each day.

She recalled times only being able to sleep when exhaustion had taken hold of her, due to the stony floor, with its rocks digging in to skin despite how she twisted and turned.

She recalled how she had ended in a cell for three days, being the cause behind a bar brawl that had resulted in The Golden Goode Taven burning..

Robert her old master had visited her, and disappointed watched her through the bars, saying simply one phrase which she still lingered “..I expected more from you” shaking his head and tapping the iron bars with the pommel of his cane, he whispered some words to the guards which released her the next day.

Robert had seen to that she faced a beating that left her in bed for several days. He had told her that, in his service, mistakes was not acceptable, and the punishment of the guards was nothing compared to what he would have to offer.

She recalled the flogging, the sound of the guard whip, cracking in the air, caused such nightmares, and memories, she had once driven her to do the one act she refrained from doing. She had killed a man, the guard in cold blood.

She wore the markings of her past on her back, on her flesh, in the ways of red lines that stretched over her skin.

With this lingering in the back of her head, she removed her armour, and went to Peltarch to hand herself in

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